Once, sitting with a Sioux man of my age on his porch, I looked at my watch. It was twelve noon. “Time for lunch,” I said and started to get up. He laughed and said, “White man only man I know who looks at his watch to see if he is hungry or not.”

I consider being unable to come to the phone to be one of life’s greatest luxuries. The last thing I want is a telephone that fits in my pocket, can find me wherever I go, fills my head with things like Trump tweets, bowling tournament scores, and how I didn’t win the lottery again, and calls me a cab because my wife says I should quit drinking and get home right now.

I want a phone the size of a cement block, like AT&T used to make, and I want it connected to an answering machine that says I can’t come to the phone.”